Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Oracle's Current (Oracle #6) by Mell Eight

 

Title:  The Oracle's Current

Series: Oracle, Book Six

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/25/2022

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 18800

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, anthropomorphic, mythical creatures/dragons, magic users, hurt/comfort, royalty

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Description

Lichen grew up dreaming he was going to test into the Earth Caste. But when he walked out of the testing chamber with the brown hair of Earth and the blue eyes of Water, he knew something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of his dream, he tested into the elusive Ether Caste, which made him both a cherished wonder and a pariah. Unable to handle the strange mixture of adoration and abhorrence from his peers, Lichen leaves the Monastery with the hope of finding some sort of happiness.

But, when tragedy strikes the Monastery, Lichen fears he won’t be of much help. He still wants to lend a helping hand, or at least a shoulder to cry on, but the quest the Oracle sends him on instead is much more important—so important, in fact, that dying to ensure the success of his mission is a real possibility.

Excerpt

The Oracle’s Current
Mell Eight © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Water was unpredictable, constantly moving and changing. The Oracle knew that all too well. And yet, that fluidity was forever confined. The water balances were the cruelest of all the Castes. Water moved as much as Air, always somewhere different within the next hour, but Air could go anywhere while Water could not.

Earth dictates the flow of water. That was perhaps the worst of the balances. Water fought against it as much as possible, carving and smoothing the earth, but it never broke free. The Oracle’s Water Dragons never broke free.

Until the terrible moment they finally found the only way to escape, and the Oracle was never sure if she ought to rejoice with them or cry for them.

The twins were cherubic the first time she saw them. They were adorable toddlers with blond hair, bright-blue eyes, and wide smiles. To the awe of their parents, she had gently placed her hands on their foreheads, and listened.

The girl child would grow up strong and beautiful. She would be loved by everyone as a child, spoiled in the arms of her adoring fans. She would make people laugh with a smile and brighten a room just by entering it. She was a Water child. Her personality flowed gently like a stream, burbled like a brook, and shined under the warm sunlight.

Then she would test into her Caste and walk out of the testing chamber with the Dragon of Water tattooed across her back. Her hair would turn three different shades of blue, shifting constantly like water continuously moving through a stream. But every stream eventually hit the turbulence of rapids as it flowed over jutting rocks and debris. Her status would eventually lead to a treacherous waterfall and death on the rocks at the bottom. But that was her freedom, her escape, from her restrictions as the Dragon of Water.

Her brother would be a different story. He was shy and happy to allow his sister to take the limelight. He was akin to a small lake tucked into a mountain grove where only the few and privileged could find and enjoy his existence. He would grow up in the shadow of his twin sister, and he would be happy with his lot. Until his testing. His sister would walk out of the testing chambers the Dragon of Water. He would enter the chambers moments later with high expectations, but he would walk out with a uniform blue back and nothing more. Not even a ripple to destroy the endless pool of blue. He would share the same blue hair as his sister, but the similarities would end there.

His tattoo was of the deep sea. It was empty of creatures or landmarks. Only the currents, constantly changing with the tides, graced his back. The Oracle knew of the potential there, that eventually something lost would swim into view and find a home, but no one else did. How could one twin test so highly and the other so poorly? The Masters would ask that question incessantly.

He slipped back into the shadows of his sister’s life and watched as she was destroyed.

The Oracle’s Monastery was sick, her Masters poisoned by greed and power. They wanted things his sister couldn’t give but took those things anyway. A faction of men offered themselves up like geese to the slaughter in the belief that lying with the Dragon of Water would bring them extra prestige in their Castes. If she had their child, their prestige would double. So they heckled her and followed her around. It was the norm. Enough women did the same whenever a man tested extremely high, so no one attempted to help her.

A different, but no less obnoxious, faction believed it was the duty of every strong Caste member to have as many children as they could. A child of the Dragon of Water would no doubt test strongly, as had proven true in the past. They conveniently forgot all the times a child with presumed pedigree did not test well and so continued in their quest to force the Dragon of Water to have as many children as she could.

The Oracle did try to help the twins, but some futures were set in stone, and all she really did was prolong the pain. She sent both twins away on quest after quest, hoping they would find somewhere new to live and not return to the Monastery, like her Hatchling eventually had. But she could see the inevitable future and knew that wouldn’t happen.

And then, one day, the end came. She had been the Dragon of Water for barely five years, but it was five years too many for the poor woman. The Masters found her body at the foot of a high cliff. She had jumped far from the water and ended the constant harassment in the only way the Oracle saw possible. The Dragon of Water died horribly, but at the same time, she was finally free from the responsibility and harassment that had been part of her life from the moment she stepped from the testing chamber.

Her brother had been swimming deep in the ocean, flirting with the whales and the giant jellyfish deep below the surface. He emerged at the beach at a run. He was naked; the deep-sea salt ruined any clothes he wore, so he now swam without. The Oracle had also felt the Dragon of Water’s death and had left the Monastery with her cadre of protective Masters to find the body. The Dragon of Water’s brother arrived at the foot of the cliff just as the Oracle did. He rushed forward to touch his sister, one hand pressing gently against her exposed back. It was one of the few places that wasn’t completely disfigured by the long fall. There was a flash of blue, and the dragon vanished.

He stood and glared at the Masters who surrounded her. “This is your fault,” he snarled at the Master of Tides to her left. “You harassed her endlessly, pestering her until she broke.”

The Oracle hated her Masters in that moment, as the pain in his voice washed over them all. He spun away, heading back to the beach. On his back the image of the deep sea still floated by serenely, but tucked away in the distance she saw where her Dragon of Water slept.

He wouldn’t return to the Monastery for a long time, her new Dragon of Water, but he would return a happier man. She hoped. In the meantime, she would have to do something about the selfish Masters so a different future would be available for the next generation of Dragons. Her Dragons of Earth and Air were working hard to fix the Monastery, but they couldn’t fix everything in so short a time. The Oracle would focus on helping the Dragons that were slowly making a difference, and continue hoping for the best for her new Dragon of Water. Hope was really all she had left for him at this point.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Prince of Flowers (Wild Hearts #1) by Nazri Noor

 

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Book Title: Prince of Flowers (Wild Hearts Book 1) 

Author and Publisher: Nazri Noor

Cover Artist: Christian Bentulan

Release Date: September 30, 2022

Genres: Contemporary MM, Fantasy M/M Romance 

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, shared bed, found family

Themes: Trust, truth (Both MCs spend a good amount of the book deceiving each other, and have to learn that maybe they shouldn’t!)

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length:  approx 62 000 words

This is book 1 in a series and does not end on a cliffhanger. HFN.

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Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

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Also available on audio - narrated by Greg Boudreaux

Audible US  |  Audible UK 

He captured a fae prince, but can he capture his heart?

Blurb 

Lochlann Wilde walks in the shadow of his father, a legendary summoner who commanded mythical beasts in battle. But Locke isn't legendary. He’s barely a summoner, never passing his academy’s trial of the elements.

And then he accidentally summons a fae prince with a beautiful body and a bad attitude.

Sylvain is fiery and ferocious, stronger than anything Locke has ever encountered. And hotter, too. But time is running out. Locke must tame the prince’s wild heart. If he fails his trial, he’ll lose his inheritance and ruin his family's name.

Without Sylvain, Locke could lose his chance to become a true summoner… along with his shot at true love.

Excerpt 

The invisible entity’s breath rushed on the breeze, seductive and strong. The faint beat of its heart sounded like the playing of a distant drum. Above all things else I could taste the overwhelming power on the tip of my tongue, a palpable flavor of strange, alien magic.

I had to have it. I needed to earn my Summoner’s Crest. It was finally my time. I had to make my father proud, wherever he could be. I thrust my hand out, the grimoire levitating at eye level, pages fluttering in an eldritch wind as it turned to the correct section. The binding, the forging of a powerful contract.

“With iron will and stalwart heart I beseech you, great force of the ether. Make yourself known. Manifest. In the name of the summoners that have come before me, hear my words. Heed my call.”

A new wind swirled at my feet, sending leaves tumbling upward, whipping at the branches. Gooseflesh rose all over my skin, my body’s response to the tingle and thrum of gathering power. Something was here. Something was responding.

Time to finish the incantation, the barest minimum for me to qualify for the Summoner’s Crest. Time to complete the Pact of the Unknown.

“I invoke you, thing of the ether, unseen and unnamed. Grant me time and space enough to bargain and barter, to forge a bond that may yet be fruitful for us both.”

The wind howled, ripping at my cloak, shearing through my hair, screaming into my ears. It was coming.

It was here.

Time to bring it all home.

“Nameless of the ether, dweller in the unknown, I call you. I summon you. Come forth. Reveal yourself!”

Grass, leaves, and petals exploded in a burst from the center of the clearing, filling the air with a swirl of green and gold. I shielded my eyes, watching through the gaps in my fingers. Had it worked? It must have. I said all the words correctly, channeled the torrent of great magic through my soul, my flesh. Nothing short of a god could have resisted my summons.

And there he knelt in the center of the glade, his head low, his neck loose, a powerfully built man wearing leather trousers and little else. He propped himself up by one hand, groaning, rubbing at his forehead with the other, like someone recovering from a hangover. A side effect of the invocation, possibly.

Black hair fell in soft wisps over his brow, across his pale gold eyes. They took their time to focus, then filled with defiance, with wild devilry. He glanced up at me, eyes widening, mouth turning up in anger. But even in fury the man was devastating. That face, those lips, that — oh, gods, that body. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

And then he opened his mouth.

About the Author

Nazri Noor is a California-based author of Filipino and Malaysian descent. While capable of fluently cursing in three languages, he only writes in English, and has been doing so in a professional capacity for over 20 years. His urban fantasy novels feature wise-cracking heroes who save the world with wits, style, and magic: think sass and class, while kicking ass.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Stolen Bride (Treaty Brides #3) by Samantha Cayto

 

The Stolen Bride by Samantha Cayto

Book 3 in the Treaty Brides series

General Release Date: 23rd Aug 2022

Word Count: 50,612
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 181

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROYALS

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Book Description

Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.

Prince Ronan of Moorcondia knows he is one of the luckiest boys alive. As the king’s second son, he has status and wealth without the heavy weight of the crown. Every man admires his hedonistic ways, but his behavior masks a shame that he feels. What he really desires is a quiet life with a man whom he can love.

Jarl Tarben is on a mission to save his people from starvation. Efforts to forge a treaty with Moorcondia have come to naught. In a desperate bid, Tarben has been tasked with abducting Ronan and forcing him into marriage. As distasteful and dishonorable as the scheme is, duty demands that he obey. He refuses to bed the prince by force, however, leaving it Ronan’s choice.

Ronan vows not to succumb to the temptation that Tarben presents. Pride alone dictates that he remain chaste, even as he grows closer to the barbarian. Tarben is everything Ronan ever dreamed of, and the lure of him grows stronger with each day that politics keeps them together.

When unseen forces threaten to consume them both, they must put aside pride and join forces to protect both their peoples.

Reader advisory: This book features an instance of sexual assault and a forced marriage.

Excerpt

“Drink up, your highness. You’re falling behind.”

Ronan, younger son of the king of Moorcondia, shot his companion the kind of prideful grin that he’d carefully cultivated since arriving at the university. “Alas, I have to leave for an assignation with a lady and can’t afford to be too much in my cups.” He slid the glass of beer back in the direction of his classmate.

The boy barked out a laugh and clapped Ronan on his shoulder with the kind of bone-jarring exuberance that seemed so common among boys of their age. Ronan didn’t understand why every interaction had to turn into a contest of inflicting pain and humiliation. The others thought it all hilarious, reinforcing what he’d known for most of his life. He was not like them, not like any boy he’d ever met.

Not even his studious older brother thought anything strange about the rough and tumble lives of their male friends. It was merely that as the future ruler of their country, Morlen had the weight of duty on his shoulders and had to prepare for the time he would ascend to the throne. Such was the fate of the one of them who’d come out of the womb first, even by mere moments. He joined them when he could for nights of drinking and carousing, careful always not to do anything to tarnish his reputation. As the ‘spare’ in the family, Ronan had no expectations and could do most anything he liked. No, not really. He was only able to get away with what people thought a young, rich man would do. Too bad those were things he didn’t like at all.

He didn’t let his desires show on his face and instead bade his companions a good night. They gave him a raucous send-off, filled with innuendos of what they assumed he would get up to and demanding a full report the next day. He joined in the merriment with rehearsed bravado. “Now, lads, you know a gentleman never speaks of what happens between the sheets. I shall only say that I’m glad we don’t have classes tomorrow.”

Ronan threw on his heavy cloak and braced for the chilly night he knew waited for him outside. Spring was only grudgingly arriving, but his semester of classes would soon come to an end, and he could return to Moorcondia for the summer recess. It would be a relief to finally go home. This first year of university had proven more taxing than he’d expected. It wasn’t his studies. It was the strain of keeping up his pretense of being a profligate rake. No one forced him to play this charade. Morlen certainly didn’t care. But Ronan feared that if he didn’t present the image of masculinity that everyone expected, they would easily see inside him, to his true self. He wasn’t sure he could bear the scorn he felt certain would come his way.

I am a coward.

He considered, as he had many times, asking his parents to let him drop out. A university education was relatively new among the royal family. They might not care if he came back or not. But if he didn’t, what would he do then? No matter how everyone had become accustomed to his uncle’s new wife, Ronan wasn’t so stupid as to assume his family and the members of court would accept him in any role other than an advisor to his brother. He would be expected to marry the proper noblewoman to add to the next generation of the family. That was his destiny, and staying at university helped put that eventuality off for a few years. There was value in that.

Ronan’s personal guard, a somewhat grizzled man who was nonetheless capable of breaking a man’s neck with a single twist, pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up in the drinking house and silently followed in Ronan’s wake. He hated having to be chained to someone else all the time, but one older man who held no interest for him and kept his opinions to himself wasn’t so bad, although the man’s silent censure was often palpable. It was better than the contingent of younger guards who surrounded Morlen day and night—not that anyone really thought they were at risk here in this seat of learning… Still, it was important for the realm as well as each of them personally that they be safe from any violence. With Sir Frauk at his back, no one dared so much as shoot an angry look at him. Ronan simply had to pretend he didn’t care about being shadowed by another who undoubtedly gave the king regular reports on how his younger son was running wild. His whole life had become one long effort at play-acting. It felt as if no one truly understood who and what he was, not even his twin.

Ronan tugged his cloak closer as he walked through the nearly empty streets of the old city, the sound of Sir Frauk’s heavy-booted tread behind him. Monks had settled here long ago, attracting more people and founding a community. Starting a place of higher learning had come naturally to those original men, and now the university was surrounded by a vibrant city that existed on the edge of Moorcondia. It was a hub of trading, as well, attracting commerce from all over, except from those people who dwelled in the Dark Mountains. They kept to themselves, enigmas as much as the land where they lived. The craggy rocks were not inviting and rose high into the clouds.

They cast a looming shadow over this part of the city in particular—not surprising, given that this was where one went for less savory pursuits. The boys at the university considered it a badge of courage that they ventured here late at night. Ronan despised it and couldn’t wait to reach his apartments. All he wanted to do was take a relaxing bath and curl up in bed with a good book. He could picture his valet waiting patiently for his return. Unlike Frauk, Igon was quick to show his disapproval of Ronan’s nighttime pursuits. But once he’d settled Ronan into bed, he left him blessedly alone.

Ronan picked up his pace with eyes on the uneven cobblestones to ensure that he didn’t slip. The fashionable boots he wore pleased him, but they weren’t very sturdy. The last thing he wanted was for Frauk to think it was drink that made him stumble. The man suddenly uttered a muted cry, very unlike him. Ronan turned to see why and froze at the sight of the large soldier crashing to the ground. Another man, little more than a dark figure, heavily armed, loomed over him. Ronan stepped forward, although to do what he couldn’t fathom. He was terrible at the martial arts and didn’t possess so much as knife on him.

A rush of air and a flicker of something out of the corner of his eye was all the warning he got before someone grabbed him from behind. He was swept off his feet, and a cloth was pressed against his nose and mouth. Trained in warfare as he was, he instinctively started to put up a fight. Whoever had him, though, was far stronger, the man’s massive arm holding him around his chest in a vise-like grip. And there was something soaking the gag, a sweet smell that made his head swim. As he fought to regain his freedom, the drug caused his muscles to go lax. Then there was nothing.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever. She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don't understand why they can't read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Oracle's Hatchling (Oracle #2) by Mell Eight

 

Title:  The Oracle's Hatchling

Series: The Oracle, Book Two

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/16/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 20700

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, MM romance, royalty, mythical creatures, dragons, magic, war, hurt-comfort

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Description

Ling is hated by everyone in the Monastery because his birth killed his mother. He hopes Caste testing will ease his troubles—either his rank will be so low that everyone will forget about him, or it will be so high they’ll be forced to respect him. What he doesn’t expect is to walk out of the testing chamber with an egg emblazoned across his back. Laughed out of the Monastery, Ling hides away in Altnoia, where he becomes embroiled in a plot to overthrow King Edan and the Oracle who supports him.

The ringleader behind the plot is Prince Damarion, son of the evil despot who forced King Edan to flee in the first place—but the prince’s motives don’t match Ling’s expectations. He doesn’t anticipate a friendship, either, or what that friendship would become and the choices he would be forced to make.

Excerpt

The Oracle’s Flame
Mell Eight © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Ling was eighteen. He was old enough, dammit. Still, the Masters at the door had barred his way even as they laughed at his temerity. He’d been forced to sneak into the room through a back hallway instead.

Eighteen was the Oracle’s minimum requirement to be eligible for testing. Most trainees weren’t actually called into the testing chambers until they were in their twenties, but they could attend the choosing ceremony from age eighteen onward. Despite his past, Ling had that right too.

“Welcome,” the Oracle called jovially into the room.

Her body was thirteen years old, just on the cusp of growing into a woman. Her voice reflected that: both high with youth and cracking with growing vocal cords. Her eyes, though, as they swept over the assembled crowd, were colorless and emanated a sense of age and wisdom. Ling knew those eyes, but to him they still belonged to a different woman.

“Today is the day of choosing. The young men and women trainees of the Castes will finally know to which Caste they belong, and all will be welcomed under the mountain.”

Ling had to hide a snort at that. He had heard enough jibes by his peers and teachers about how he should die in the testing chamber. They hated him because he had been born and because the occurrence of his birth had killed his mother. Still, he had hope. When he tested into a Caste, that one Caste would have to acknowledge his existence. If he tested low enough, they could finally ignore him and let him go about his life. If he tested high enough, they would be forced to respect him. That had to be better than his status at the moment.

“Come forward, trainees,” the Oracle finished with an open sweep of her arms as if she were planning to give the entire room a hug.

A line slowly formed in front of the Oracle as those jostling for place jumped forward. The older trainees wanted to know their Caste and move on to the next phase of their lives. The younger ones were eager for the honor of being placed as well, despite not having waited as many years. Ling hung back, hidden in an alcove in the back of the room. If he approached too soon and was seen waiting in line, one of the Masters would no doubt try to throw him out. He had to approach just as the Oracle gave her decision on the final trainee.

The line slowly dwindled. Each trainee approached the Oracle with cautious reverence. She placed one hand on their forehead for a long moment and then delivered their fate. Of the fifteen trainees, she only chose five, entreating the other ten to return the next year. Only once the last trainee had backed away with a bow did Ling abandon his hiding place. The onlookers, thinking the choosing had finished, began shifting awkwardly as they waited for the Oracle’s permission to leave. When she didn’t, only continued to look toward the back of the room, they all turned to see where the Oracle was patiently gazing.

No one spoke out as Ling carefully made his way through the crowd. The Oracle would tell them if he was or was not allowed to approach her, and she hadn’t spoken. Finally, Ling reached the dais where the Oracle stood.

“Approach, trainee,” she said regally.

Ling bowed low and slowly stepped up to her. This could be his only chance to attend a choosing, now that the Masters knew he had snuck in. They would find some way to permanently bar him in the future. He had to be eligible for testing this year; he didn’t know what he would do if that weren’t the case.

“Hello, Hatchling,” the Oracle said softly for Ling’s ears only.

“Hello, Mother,” Ling replied in an equally soft voice.

She smiled at him, then lifted her hand to place it on his forehead. Ling closed his eyes and waited, hoping that it would end in his favor.

The Oracle took a long time, much longer than with the other trainees. The crowd again started to shift restlessly, almost angrily. They didn’t want Ling anywhere near their precious Oracle, and that he had outmaneuvered them was already pushing their buttons.

“You shall test first,” the Oracle proclaimed. “In one hour, arrive at my rooms.” She took a slow step backward, her hand brushing across his forehead once before it returned to her side. “Go on,” she added for his ears only.

Ling bowed again, trying to hide his jubilation. He was allowed to test! Not only that, he would test first! It didn’t matter that someone elbowed him in the ribs as he hurried through the crowd and out of the room. He had been given a place of honor, one that usually meant high placement in his Caste. If he became a Master, they would be forced to respect him. No one would elbow him in the gut just because they could, not when he was a Caste Master and they a mere member.

He practically skipped down the halls, heading directly to the Oracle’s rooms before someone could think to stop him. The halls were strangely empty; everyone either watching the choosing or in training classes, their duties more important than their hatred of Ling.

“May I help you, trainee?” Elder Flame asked gently as Ling approached the massive doorway to the Oracle’s rooms. Normally there were four Masters of the Castes guarding the door, but three had been standing behind the Oracle during the choosing. Elder Flame had remained behind to secure the rooms for the Oracle’s return.

He was one of the few in the Monastery who didn’t judge Ling on his past. He didn’t appear to judge anyone, and truthfully, only his Dragon trainee had ever gotten him riled. Elder Flame was as gentle and calm as a candle flame that kept away the dark of night. That he could also be an inferno, furious and raging, was never evident. He hadn’t taken on another newly tested Fire Caste in the years since the Dragon of Fire had chosen to stay permanently in Altnoia. Ling didn’t know which Caste he wanted to test into, but he did know that having Elder Flame as his teacher would be wonderful.

“I have been chosen for testing, within the hour,” Ling replied with a grin he couldn’t keep off his face.

“Then may I offer you congratulations,” Elder Flame replied with a short bow of recognition of Ling’s accomplishment. “Enter and await the Oracle’s arrival.”

Elder Flame pulled the heavy doors open with apparent ease. He was still strong, despite his advancing age. His hair was pure white, his face deeply wrinkled, and his back bent, but the fire in him remained strong and vibrant regardless.

“Thank you, Elder Flame,” Ling replied with the deeper bow expected between a trainee and a Master. Ling stepped through the doorway and entered the Oracle’s rooms. There was a low table in the center with cushions on the floor instead of proper chairs. Ling took a seat and settled in to wait.

The testing chamber door was wide open. Ling had never heard of such a thing before, but then he hadn’t been allowed in the Oracle’s rooms since he had been five years old. The outer room hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. New cushions, a few new decorations, but overall, it was the same. Only the open door, leading into the one place Ling had never walked through in the Oracle’s rooms, was strange.

It called to him. He wanted to stand and walk through the doorway. He felt an urgent need, akin to nothing Ling had ever experienced before. He had to hold on to the table to keep from getting back to his feet.

Finally, the doors opened again. The Oracle stepped into the room with all four Masters of the Castes, who usually guarded outside, walking in behind her. They were to be his witnesses, Ling realized. No one else had stepped forward to verify his bare, untouched back before he walked into the testing chamber. No one else had cared enough about him to offer him five minutes of honor.

“Are you prepared?” the Oracle intoned, her voice filled with the age usually only visible in her eyes.

“I am prepared, Oracle,” Ling replied firmly as he let go of the table and got to his feet. Without needing to be told, Ling pulled his homespun shirt over his head. He dropped the shirt onto the table and turned so the Oracle and the Masters could see the blank canvas that was his back.

“Very well. Enter the chamber and be tested.”

Ling turned around once more and bowed deeply to the Oracle. Then he answered the insistent call of the testing chamber and walked forward. The door snapped shut after he crossed the threshold. The room was dark. Ling couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and had no idea where any of the walls were. Instead of walking forward and possibly breaking his nose when he walked into hard stone, Ling stayed exactly where he was.

After a while, he realized someone was screaming. It was a woman’s voice, high-pitched with excruciating pain. There were other voices too, men and women yelling things about blood and a baby’s foot.

“I don’t care if the baby is facing the wrong way!” the woman’s voice snapped, still shrill and broken as she gasped desperately for air.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Oracle's Flame (Oracle #1) by Mell Eight

 

Title:  The Oracle's Flame

Series: Oracle, Book One

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/02/2022

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 19100

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, romance, menage, dragons, sailors/pirates, royalty, psychic, action/adventure

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Description

The Kingdom of Altnoia is on the cusp of civil war. The king and heir have been murdered, the throne taken by their uncle, and the kingdom’s only hope lies with Prince Edan who has been missing for the past year. The Oracle appoints Kindle, her new Dragon of Fire, one task: find Prince Edan and keep him alive.

It should have been a simple task, but Kindle did not anticipate Prince Edan would hide away on a pirate ship, forcing the dragon not only to endure pirates, but seasickness and his fear of water. And nothing, not even the Oracle, could have prepared him for the two pirates he meets and the complicated feelings they spark.

Excerpt

The Oracle’s Flame
Mell Eight © 2022
All Rights Reserved

The castle wasn’t burning, although her mind’s eye saw it outlined in flames. There would be fire, but not this night. No, this night was death. This night was treason.

These events had already occurred. They were sent from the past, meant to ensure her understanding of the present, and to help her decipher the future. They were important, so the Oracle watched them again.

Ferim was scowling over his brother’s body. His older half brother, the king, was dead. The specter of his mother, the long-dead second wife of the previous king, hung over Ferim’s head as he declared himself King of Altnoia. The spite in his mother’s heart had successfully lived on, given new birth at the end of Ferim’s bloody sword. The king was dead. The king’s wife was dead. The king’s oldest son was dead. Ferim’s mother placed a heavy crown on Ferim’s head and then began to let out a crazed laugh.

The second son of the dead king escaped the castle, a circle of loyal servants and guards ensuring that Prince Edan, the rightful heir to the throne, boarded a ship in the harbor. Cannons fired as the White Crest forced an opening through the country’s armada. The news of the coup in the castle was just arriving at the port; too late to halt Prince Edan’s escape. Those captains loyal to their jobs futilely returned fire while those loyal to land and crown abandoned ship and took to the hills to begin building a rebellion against the false king.

The rebellion continued at sea as well, led by Prince Edan and his loyal crew, and the years passed. King Ferim grew in power, but dissent also grew as the people thought of their lost prince. The Oracle watched as a sickly green shadow began to grow in Altnoia. First the shadow was contained, as a shadow should be, by the forces of light and dark. It clung to Ferim’s robes, his shoes, and his very breath. But sickness spreads quickly. As Ferim breathed on his councilors, their shadows also began to grow ill. Ferim walked through the city, and everywhere he stepped, a pool of deadly miasma formed. Soon the shadow was hanging over all of Altnoia.

These were the images the Oracle’s mind provided to symbolize corruption and greed as they fermented. As filling one’s own pockets with gold and gems went above the good of the country. As regular citizens fought to produce enough grain to feed their families and pay the tithe the king demanded. As they sickened and died when blight came to the crops and deadly illness into the wells.

The people remembered the prosperity they had enjoyed under the murdered king, and they remembered their prince had escaped that day of blood. The people hoped for a better life, and the rebellion grew in strength every day. King Ferim sat on his throne and heard those whispers, and he knew Prince Edan had to die for his reign to continue.

And thus, the present was ended. Now it was time for the future, for the unknown, and the possible paths diverged in dozens of directions. Should King Ferim go riding on one sunny day in late spring, his horse would step in a hole, and both horse and false-king would be dead. But such an event was unlikely. King Ferim was afraid of riding, as that was allegedly what had killed his beloved mother. The Oracle discarded that path and moved on to another.

The Oracle was not alone in her mind, which helped her sort through the possibilities of each future path. She was myriad, the consciousness of each Oracle that had come before her current body held safely within her. Each consciousness sorted quickly, soon finding the most likely paths of future possibilities. The Oracle watched each one occur in her mind’s eye.

Purchase at NineStar Press

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Diplomat's Bride (Treaty Brides #2) Samantha Cayto

 

The Diplomat's Bride by Samantha Cayto

Book 2 in the Treaty Brides series

General Release Date: 28th June 2022

Word Count: 53,223
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 188

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROYALS

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Book Description

Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.

Kexen of the Outer Vale has made a unique splash in the Moorcondian palace and has captured the attention of Benedict, Lord Tentrees, a diplomat trying to make his mark. When a winter-long mission arises to negotiate a trading treaty with a foreign queen, Ben needs a wife by his side. Never having been attracted to women, he sets his sights on marrying the enticing Kexen. He means for him to be both a helpmate navigating court society and a shield against the flirtatious queen.

Because Kexen is someone who—by his own admission—is neither male nor female, he is intrigued by the idea of becoming Lady Tentrees and presenting entirely as a woman. Ben sweetens the offer with a lucrative trade deal between their families. Kexen will not ignore his duty while also being drawn to the virile diplomat who desires him. He cannot help but accept the proposal.

Their journey through both their diplomatic mission and marriage proves to be a rocky one. Kexen is not as experienced as his husband first believes, Ben is more driven by his career than Kexen appreciates and neither of them anticipates the intrigue waiting for them at their destination. The strength of their growing bond will be tested as they fight for their survival.

Excerpt

Benedict, Lord Tentrees of Northcliff, stood at the balcony’s rail and peered down at the colorful spectacle of the servants’ ball. Technically, he had no business being there. The ball season for the nobility had already ended earlier in the evening. These final hours were intended to benefit those who served the palace denizens so faithfully throughout the year. This was a grand gesture of thanks for their hard work and loyalty. Woe be it to anyone who didn’t give a servant these few hours to enjoy themselves with food, drink and merriment. The royal family had long made it clear that this was by decree. There would be some aching heads and sleepy eyes come the harsh light of the morning, but for now, the people twirling around the dance floor and taking liberties with each other in corners had no care in the world—or so it seemed to him. Not that his gaze landed on anyone for long, because he was there to find one person in particular.

It wasn’t difficult for him to spot his quarry. Even among the bright garments of the attendants, Kexen of the Outer Vale stood out. He was clothed in the colors of fall—deep red, bright orange and sparkling yellow. His daringly short doublet sported gathered sleeves that cascaded in folds down his slender arms while provocatively highlighting what lay behind the crotch of his almost obscenely snug trousers. His knee-high brown leather boots gave his legs an even longer look, while his elaborately braided hair swung with his every graceful turn. Kexen was not a tall man, but that was all to the good. The boy would fit perfectly with Ben’s own height. The vision of gathering him in his arms was captivating. His cock hardened at the thought of it, enjoying the spark of pleasure. With his demanding profession, there wasn’t much opportunity to slake his needs. Hopefully, that situation was about to change.

There was no reason to tarry any longer, so, stepping away from his vantage point, he headed toward the staircase that would send him into the midst of the revelers. He had intended to be as inconspicuous as possible, understanding that this was not his domain, that he was an interloper who might cause some alarm among the servants. His good intentions notwithstanding, the severity of his all-black clothing served to make him stand out among the festive outfits of those around him. There was a certain amount of startlement by those who saw and recognized his station, if not his identity, leading to smiles morphing into more respectful expressions. Some nodding of heads occurred, as well, in deference to his rank. Ben tried to convey that he was no threat to them, that he had no demands, not even any expectations—not from these people, in any event. Kexen was a different story altogether. If all went to plan, Ben would seduce the boy while judging up close whether they would make a good match.

Ben caught sight of Kexen on the dance floor again. He was being whirled around in the beefy arms of a footman. Ben settled against the wall to stay unobtrusive as he waited with less patience than he would have expected from himself for the musicians to end their song. The moment the last of the notes were played, he launched into the crowd. Now he appreciated being shown respect as the partying servants cleared a way for him, making his journey that much quicker. He caught up with Kexen and his partner just as they were stepping out onto one of the balconies. The night was brisk but, in contrast to the heat of the ballroom, very refreshing—not that the cold air served to dampen his ardor. Seeing Kexen up close only increased his desire for the boy.

Exquisite.

Kexen’s face was lit with joviality as he gazed up at the footman, laughing at something the man had said. There was a coy look to the boy’s expression, as well. Ben was surprised at the spurt of jealousy he felt at the sight. He reminded himself that Kexen was not his and might never be so unless he proved to be worthy. Charging forth as if he were an enraged lover was hardly going to serve that purpose. Being a diplomat, he knew how to bank his emotions and measure his words and actions. By the time he reached the couple, he hoped he appeared friendly and casual.

Kexen was the first to spot him. His jubilance dimmed somewhat, although he looked more curious than apprehensive. He nodded his head. “My lord, is there something you wish?”

You. In my bed. Ben didn’t voice this desire out loud, of course. Instead, he said, “I would love a dance, if you would honor me.” Ben had the pleasure of seeing surprise flash across the boy’s face. He was delighted that the obviously confident young man could still be caught off guard.

Kexen reached to twist one finger around the chain of a small ruby pendant and dropped his gaze. “I am honored, my lord. But your pardon, this is the servants’ ball. It is not fit for a nobleman.” Just as Ben was appreciating the subtlety of the rebuke, Kexen looked up at him from under his lashes.

Cheeky boy, you’re interested. Ben stepped closer. “And a fine event it is. Please forgive the intrusion, but I have been anticipating the opportunity to meet you, Kexen of the Outer Vale. This seemed the best occasion to do so.”

Now Kexen showed open welcome, his lips curling in a beckoning smile. “Oh. You flatter me, my lord.”

The footman proved that his brains weren’t as big as his muscles. When the man opened his mouth as if to object, Ben stepped deftly between him and Kexen and stared the footman down. “If you don’t mind?”

They were matched in height, and while Ben wasn’t quite as broad, he could hold his own in a brawl as well as at the negotiation table—not that either skill was required in this event. He didn’t hesitate to convey his social position in his gaze to encourage the footman to find someone else to dally with. The man was confident but not entirely stupid, apparently. With a curt nod, he strode away.

Pleased with the outcome, Ben turned to Kexen and held out his hand. “They are playing a waltz…my favorite.”

Kexen managed to convey shyness, something his reputation belied. Ben didn’t mind the pretext. The boy’s ability to navigate the complex waters of a court was one of the things that Ben coveted him for. He hadn’t been worried about a refusal, but when Kexen put his hand in his own, the jolt of excitement Ben felt was a surprise. He prided himself on being cool and measured in his actions. Something about the feel of this boy, however, made him want to drag him off into a corner and do a different kind of dance—one that involved his cock sliding past those slightly tinted and lovely lips. The way Kexen closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Ben’s neck, told him that the boy had similar ideas. Such a temptation, but Ben schooled himself to be patient, because this night was not a one-time seduction. It was hopefully the beginning of a short courtship.

Ben took his dance partner by the waist and pulled him in close, letting Kexen feel the measure of his arousal. “Let us stay out here. I wouldn’t want my presence to impede the others’ enjoyment. I will endeavor to keep you warm.” So saying, he began to slowly lead the boy in circles.

Kexen tilted his head to look him in the eye. “You are succeeding admirably, my lord.”

“I’m gratified to hear it. I’m Benedict, by the way.”

“I know who you are, Lord Tentrees. I must confess to being surprised that you know who I am.”

Ben whirled them into the far recesses of the balcony, taking them away from everyone else. “You shouldn’t be. Who at the palace hasn’t heard of the valiant groomer of the Duchess of Vostguard? You helped to save Prince Soren from an ambush at grave risk to your own safety.”

Kexen dropped his gaze and shrugged. “Oh, that. It was all the Duchess’ doing. I merely went along to serve him, as is my duty.”

Ben knew false modesty when he heard it, and this was decidedly not that. Kexen truly believed his actions weren’t worthy of special mention. Ben’s estimation of him increased. There was more to this boy than beauty and even bravery. Most people in his position would brag to anyone and everyone about such exploits, not caring if their words betrayed the secrets of those whom they served. Kexen’s humbleness and discretion were excellent traits in diplomatic circles. There was no doubt in Ben’s mind that he had made the right choice, even if it were really the only one afforded him.

“You don’t do yourself justice. I’ve attended a few meetings in the presence of the king. I assure you he feels quite differently.”

Kexen blushed despite the cold air swirling around them. “The royal family is very kind, my lord.”

“My friends call me Ben.”

“I am surely not that upon such a short acquaintance.”

“I should like you to be.” He let his passion show in his eyes. “Should we continue our dance somewhere more private inside?” He actually held his breath waiting for the reply. In theory, he could have his way whether Kexen wanted him or not. King Auden didn’t tolerate the abuse of servants, but pressure could be brought to bear quietly against even the most secure servants with little retribution, if one was careful about it. But that wasn’t how he intended this venture to go. An eager Kexen would be a far better prize than a reluctant and begrudging one.

Kexen rested his cheek on Ben’s shoulder. “I would like that very much.”

Ben wasted no time, ending their dance before tugging Kexen by the hand back into the ballroom. He skirted the crowd to leave through the nearest exit and led the boy to the first quiet alcove he could find. The palace had so many discreet places for assignations that he was inclined to believe it was by deliberate design. Part of him disliked being so public. He would have preferred to take Kexen back to his own apartment, but, despite his recent promotion in the diplomatic corps, he still didn’t have a room in the palace. Taking the time to dress for outside and head to his place in the city didn’t appeal to him. Plus, he didn’t want to burden Kexen with two trips—there and back—on such a cold and late night.

The moment they were out of the sight of prying eyes, he pulled the boy into a kiss. He’d intended to take it slowly, to do nothing that might alarm even an experienced person such as Kexen. One touch of their lips, however, had him devouring the boy’s mouth instead. His much-valued control snapped with a speed that alarmed him. Or, rather, it would have, if feasting on Kexen were not as delectable as it was. Within seconds, he was sitting on a tufted settee with Kexen straddling his lap. Their respective erections mashed against each other as much as their clothing allowed. Ben wanted nothing more than to strip those barriers away. He had to wrestle with himself to gain control over his passion.

Breaking the kiss, he peppered Kexen’s jaw with quick pecks. “We must slow down, my dear, or I won’t last much longer.”

Kexen giggled in a sweet voice. “Who says I want you to…Ben?”

Hearing his name spoken in a voice thick with need nearly sent him over the edge. He closed his eyes and nuzzled the side of the boy’s neck, breathing in the sharp scent of bergamot mixed with the more musky smell of his arousal. As Ben worried that his mind was becoming cloudy, Kexen slipped from his grasp and was kneeling between his legs before Ben knew what was happening.

“Let me make you happy.” That was all the boy said before undoing the laces of Ben’s trousers, freeing his cock.

What rational thought that was left in his mind fled in the next instance when Kexen swallowed him whole right down nearly to the root. It was an impressive feat based on his prior experience. No one had ever taken the entirety of his rather large dick, and few had been able to manage as much as Kexen was now. The intensity of being mostly encased in such tight, wet heat nearly undid him. Then Kexen worked his throat muscles to massage the top half of Ben’s shaft. That was all it took for him to double over from his orgasm, pressing his lips tight to keep from shouting his pleasure.

Kexen kept lavishing attention on Ben’s dick until it popped out of his mouth. The boy beamed up at him as Ben caught his breath. “Do you feel better now, my lord?”

By way of an answer, Ben hauled him back up to his lap with a swiftness that made Kexen gasp. “Not nearly enough. I want more.” He kissed the boy again, tasting his own bitterness. Far from being disgusted, he loved it, because it was a mingling of them both. He wanted to reciprocate the giving of such pleasure. But when he reached between them to cup Kexen’s erection, he found that the boy had already come from the cocksucking alone. Knowing that he’d had such a potent effect on him puffed up his chest. He wondered if he could do it again and found himself eager to try. There was plenty of time left in the night, and based on the way Kexen melted into his arms, he seemed just as eager for more.

This was proof that he’d been right all along. Kexen of the Outer Vale was the perfect bride for him.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don't understand why they can't read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Disowned Royal (Club Royal #4) by Elouise East

Author Elouise East and Gay Book Promotions share new release information on daddy kink romance, Disowned Royal (Club Royal #4)! Read more about the contemporary romance and enter in the giveaway for a chance to win one of two signed paperbacks of one book from the Club Royal series! Good luck!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Disowned Royal (Club Royal Book 4)

Author and Publisher: Elouise East

Cover Artist: Designs by Tina Løwen

Release Date: June 2, 2022

Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance

Tropes: Friends to lovers, Daddy/little, hurt/comfort, famous person chooses commoner

Themes: Family trying to hurt those the MCs love, 

Heat Rating:  3 - 4 flames   

Length: approx 82 000 words/ 295 pages

It can be read as a standalone but it is recommended the other books are read first.

The book does not end on a cliffhanger, but there is an overarching storyline that goes through the series.

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Book 1 (Rogue Royal) will be on sale from June 2 - 5

An ex-Army prince must protect the man he loves from his treasonous family

Blurb

Life couldn’t get any more twisted and convoluted if it tried. Christian hates his parents as much as they hate him, but he never expected them to throw him in a cell when he blurted out he was bisexual. Their public image is important to them because it hides the transgressions they’ve subjected many people to over the years. People Christian mourn every day because he couldn’t save them. Reading is an escape, and one place gives him the solitude he needs to shore his defences - and the view isn’t too bad either.

Oscar is living his dream. The owner of a beautiful cafe slash bookshop slash library, he is never happier than when he is working, which is all the time. When Prince Christian becomes a regular, Oscar tries to stop his attraction to him, but the man is like a god. A haunted god, but nonetheless. His scrutiny of the man means he notices when Christian nears breaking point, but he has no idea what to do about it. Christian offers to find him a Daddy, but Oscar hesitates. Does Christian really want to help or is he feeling sorry for him? 

When their attraction persuades Christian to take the role of Oscar’s Daddy for himself, can he keep Oscar safe when he goes up against the people who wish to harm those they love?

This is an MM book containing BDSM scenes and D/s dynamics in all forms. It also has lots of loving, friendships, family drama and, of course, a HEA.

Excerpt 

“Would you like some company?” he asked.

Christian smiled. “Sure. Have a seat.”

“I don’t have to if you want some peace. I didn’t realise Hilary had…”

“Sit down, little one,” Christian murmured.

Oscar slid into the seat opposite him, pulling his cup and cake towards him. He was quiet for a moment before he peered at Christian again. “Does it hurt?”

Christian chuckled. “A little. Eating is tiresome because it makes my jaw ache, but I can manage.”

“Are your ribs the same?” Raising his eyebrows, Christian tilted his head. “I saw you wince a couple of times.”

“Yes. My ribs are decorated like a rainbow at present.”

Oscar gasped. “Should you be resting?”

“If I didn’t get out of there, I would’ve gone mad. I’ve been ‘resting’ for days already.” He focused on his coffee, taking a sip.

Oscar bit his lip to stop from asking what happened. Instead, he used his fork to cut a piece of his cake and slide it into his mouth. The chocolate cake was delicious, and the reason he always had his supplier make an extra cake so he could take one home. He counted it as part of his wages. It didn’t help that he had a sweet tooth, something his Daddy would need to help him with when he had one who stayed longer than a night.

“What are you thinking about?” Christian asked.

Oscar opened the eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed and studied him. Then he stared at his cake, pushing crumbs from one side to the other. He huffed a laugh. “I was thinking that I needed my Da…” He glanced over his shoulder. “I needed my Daddy to make sure I didn’t eat too many sweet things. I have something of a problem.”

Christian laughed. “Working in a cafe is probably not the best idea.”

“Don’t I know it. I’m sure my trousers are getting tighter by the day.”

“You look fine to me. I bet being on your feet all day balances the sweet addiction. I bet it’s not as bad as Henry and George, anyway.”

“Why?”

Christian put his mug down and curled his hands around it. “Henry loves fudge. Any flavour, any shape. Just fudge. If he had his way, he’d eat it every day. As for George, his addiction to love heart sweets easily pays a factory worker’s annual salary.”

Oscar chuckled. “I don’t feel so alone now.”

“You’d fit right in, don’t you worry.”

Oscar’s heart jumped with Christian’s words, though he knew the prince didn’t mean anything by them. There was no way he would fit in with royalty.

“I will be speaking tomorrow to a couple of people who might be interested in your…situation,” Christian said. “I will hopefully have more news for you tomorrow.”

Oscar swallowed hard, ignoring the pang in his stomach when he thought about someone else being with him. He couldn’t have a prince. “Thank you.” He drank his coffee, shoving down the feelings his traitorous body was bringing to the surface.

“What’s wrong?”

Oscar glanced up. “What?”

“You seem sad. Has something happened?”

“No, nothing. I’m okay.”

Christian narrowed his eyes on him, and Oscar fidgeted in his seat, wanting to make himself smaller. Not because Christian was intimidating, but because Oscar’s brain was already associating Christian with being a Daddy and someone he didn’t want to upset. He wanted to be good for him, even though they didn’t have that type of relationship.

“Oscar?”

He lifted his gaze to where his name had been called, and Hilary waved for him. He stood. “I have to get back to work. I’m glad you’re okay.” Oscar stepped away but turned back when Christian said his name softly.

“I’ll find someone. I promise.”

About the Author  

I am Elouise East but feel free to call me Elli. I write sweet and steamy connections in gay romance. I also touch on taboo stories under the name Elouise R East.

Books that tell the stories where friendship and family are the focal point - be it blood family or chosen - is very important to me. That’s why I include a variety of personalities, talents, ages, situations and abilities as I believe a story or a character needs. I want my characters to be real, to be relatable, to be free to have whatever views they tell me they have. And trust me, most of the time, I do not have any say in the matter!

My characters come to life on the page for me as well as my readers. Their stories unfold in front of me, and I have very little input into how they want to be shown. Just like real life, the lives of my characters change with every choice, every interaction and every conversation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I write books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories. I don’t know any other way to write. It comes from deep inside.

Who am I? A single parent to two children who make life worth living. An avid reader who still devours every book she can get her hands on. A student of learning about any subject that takes her fancy. An author of books she would read herself. And a romantic at heart who loves anything cheesy. 

Who’s in?

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Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win 

one of two signed paperbacks of one book from the Club Royal series

(Rogue Royal, Secretive Royal, Grieving Royal or Disowned Royal)

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions